“Wouldn’t the fae down there sense us, too?” I ask.
Taran shakes his head. “This is my realm. My land-sense is stronger than anyone else’s.”
“Even the queen’s?”
“Her bond with the Land passed to me when she was exiled. She’s been fighting me for it—that’s how she knows I’ve returned. But she’s been gone for decades. She shouldn’t be able to wrest it from me anytime soon, outside of my death.”
“Why did it go to you if your father was king?”
“He wasn’t an Evermoor,” Taran explains. “I was a child when I inherited the throne, and by fae standards, I’m still young and foolish.” The words have a ring to them, as if he’s repeating a phrase he’s heard many times. “He ruled in my name.”
I chew my food while considering this new information. Despite calling himself a prince, he’s basically the king, which makes his behavior even more understandable. He’s already fighting for the crown; even if I wasn’t imagining things, it’d be ludicrous to risk alienating his people by getting involved with a human.
“It’s weird to think of you as King,” I say, tucking away a long blade of grass the wind has tickling my leg.
Taran freezes, a handful of dried fruit hovering inches from his mouth. “I’m not King.” He pauses, lowering his hand. “Not yet.”
I shrug. “You basically are. You don’t have your crown, but you’re fighting the queen for your realm, making plans, ordering everyone around, showing off your power…”
His eyes narrow. “I’m not showing off—I’m keeping us alive.”
The heat flares again, drying out my mouth. “I know. I’m… simply seeing a different side of you. That’s all.”
His jaw tightens, and he packs the remaining food back into his pack. “We’ve lingered long enough. We have a lot of ground to cover.”
The wind picks up as he marches away. I really need to start thinking before I speak, or better yet, just keep quiet and follow Taran’s lead before I frustrate him enough that he regrets ever seeking my help. But the thought of doing so carves an emptiness into my chest, which is odd—that was all I did before going to the Academy. When did that stop being enough?
Aside from a few more moments where he stops us to hide from far-off eyes, we keep moving until nightfall. My little button is squeezed between my fingers; I’m not sure when my hand drifted to it. Despite everything, it still feels like helping Taran will somehow lead me to what I’m missing. A wholeness that feels otherwise out of reach, except when holding this button. How can such a small, meaningless thing bring me such comfort?
My foot catches on something in the darkness. I lurch forward, arms flying. Taran catches me around the waist, pulling me back from a very steep, rocky descent into blackness.
A glint in the moonlight tumbles down.
My button.
Gone.
I pull myself free of his arms, my body seizing in panic.
My button.
“Are you alright?” Taran asks.
Tears well in my eyes, and I take a deep breath, trying to settle my pounding heart. It’s just a button. Small. Meaningless.
So why do I feel like I lost a part of myself?
“We can’t keep going like this!” I say, my voice pitching up. “I can’t see a thing!”
Taran looks around, apparently having no trouble at all seeing in the dark. “We need to get out of the wind.”
He takes my hand, his own rough and warm against mine, then pulls me along, pointing out the obstacles in our way. Eventually, he leads me behind a large boulder that makes a decent windbreak.
My heart finally settles as I collapse against the freezing hillside that might as well be rock instead of grass and dirt. “You’ll have to collect firewood this time.”
The cold air shocks my toes as I yank my boots off my aching feet, my stomach panging with how useless I’ve become.First, I can’t incant anymore. Now, I can’t even hold on to a button.
“No more fires,” Taran says. “They draw too much attention.”
